


Written in unblemished imprints

by hyacinth_lea



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Just slow burn because things got long, M/M, Pairings will be added as they happen, Slow Burn, Some TW may happen but will add if they do take place, Some society issues in this world, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-10-28 20:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20784626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinth_lea/pseuds/hyacinth_lea
Summary: The world calls them a mistake, rare and scattered among human kind. Judgemental gazes falling upon the ones who don't fit the definition of normalcy in a society that sees soul bonds as the biggest mistake fate could have ever let set foot on Earth. Because calling each other "faithfully each others" seemed a privilege, it was far easier to turn the tables and proclaim free will was actual love.It's a statement that has been a part of Hongbin's life every single day, growing up with bitterness tied to his being over a choice that wasn't his to make and with the need to conceal the so-called imperfection that makes him who he is.Love is what Hongbin craves less. Until dark amber meets onyx, until his mark screams at him to take a step back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt that was for a fest ♡
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been with me through this. I promise I will make something pretty out of this. 
> 
> We are in for a long ride, want to be a part of this chabin story?

It is but a constant repetition that he doesn’t see the end of, turning the same and almost robotic procedure that has already engraved itself in him into something entirely frustrating. He can only abhor the fact that this keeps being a constant which he can’t run away from, loathing always manifesting itself as it finds its course through his system--a clashing current of anxiety and annoyance rushing through him. Even if it is something necessary in his life, in everyone's existence for that matter.

Yet, each occasion only becomes a showcase of the repetitive string of actions which have become foreseeable to Hongbin--gestures and looks all too familiar. It is of no importance that the visage before him is entirely different, the traces of the inevitable silent scrutiny are always identical. He has habituated himself to see them for as long as he can remember in other faces long forgotten by now- after all, they all are similar, basking in the superficial status that the so called normality gives them even in an ordinary situation and looking at everyone else with a judgemental eye before a chance to introduce themselves properly arises. Instances like this one only making the feeling far more prominent.

The air in the office he is sitting is turning heavy around him, pure white walls appear to enclose him further more than they already are, natural light filtering through the windows fail to give any sort of comfort--it’s almost suffocating as the gaze falling on him from across the desk with utmost intensity makes him try his best to prevent the quiver in his voice from making itself present while the papers scattered on the wooden surface seem daunting. Hongbin’s hands rest on top of his thighs, somehow attempting to hide their trembling in a way that goes unnoticed, thanking the desk covering him as he clutches the fabric of his jeans, attempting to not give away any sort signs that could reveal that his seemingly calm demeanour is nothing but a facade he has built for himself.

The amount of times he has gone through this same process in his youth is truly unimportant, because there is something about the difficulty levels of simple and small day to day questions that still makes Hongbin feel like a weight had been suddenly thrown to the pit of his stomach and that an unknown force was tugging at the strings of his stability. It never changes--the uneasiness doesn’t diminish no matter the many occasions he has been at the other side of a desk with a set of inquiries to reply to. Always finding himself answering the usual, _ ‘What’s your name and age?’ _ that makes Hongbin only let his most gentle and professional smile paint itself on his lips as reply.

“Lee Hongbin, 23 years old” he begins, collected and stable in contrast to how tighter the grasp on his jeans is becoming by the second, “Turning 24 this year”

The response he gets is truly to the point and without the need to dwell on unnecessary chit-chat--a simple nod in acknowledgement and nothing but. Yet, it’s all Hongbin needs for ease to finally begin settling in his system and for his muscles to relax even if the relief turns out to be momentary, “Part-time or full time?” the man in a suit sitting across him asks, notes being scribbled hastily in unison with Hongbin’s replies that attempt to explain what he is here for and the kind of job he wishes to get.

“My college schedules are a bit messy,” he starts, tone steadier by the second and he can’t help but owe it to lady luck that he isn’t letting fear crawl into him, “but it is mostly in the mornings when things are hectic for me,” Hongbin explains to the interviewer, carefully choosing what to reveal and not. He knows he has to curate his replies in a way that they feel fulfilling enough and that pose as barrier at the same time, there really is no room for any sort of mistake--at least, not for him, “My evenings are free, my afternoons are not that bad--my weekend mornings are available though”

It doesn’t take long until things take an almost mechanical turn as more questions begin being bombarded his way, the atmosphere shifting as if it were a war zone. Each question is on the search to find a flaw in every word that falls from his lips and they nearly sound glacial and impersonal, making this more automated than it should be, “Ever rode a motorbike?”

“I own one”

“Drivers license?”

“Updated, sir”, to Hongbin these interviews at times transform themselves into a field full of landmines for him to tread on with his eyes blindfolded, as if the wrong step was going to set everything on fire and crashing down like wreckage after an explosion--translating into a probably lost opportunity. He gets a nod in response, the man in front him just bobbing his head and noting down Hongbin’s answers before the inevitable comes-- Hongbin _ knew _it was, yet it doesn't make it any less disappointing.

“Your ID card please,” he is told, a hand stretched out for him to place the item that defines his identity--even though he is far more than what an object like that says, “I would like to check your tattoo permission”

“Yeah…” he reaches for his bag that had been sitting on the floor by the foot of his chair and rummages through it to grab his wallet and place it on the table--sitting in between them like an unspoken guarantee, “I have none” he says, hoping that his tone delivers the truth in his words, for them to be accepted as facts.

Hongbin’s ID is inspected carefully, with a curious eye as if nothing similar had been seen before,“No stickers,” says the man, attention focusing on his notepad once more. Hongbin can see him crossing out some empty squares in a form that lays on the table and he is certainly glad that for now, this stage has been passed, “Not a single tattoo made by your own decision--_ that’s good _” the interviewer points out as he places the card on the table, this particularly giving the impression of bonus points in his book, “It’s just a safety measure” he adds, as if to excuse himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s understandable” Hongbin says,making an understanding soft smile show itself in a world which will forever remain incomprehensible in its glacial outlook at humanity. In Hongbin’s view, he knows that it is something akin to pity and at times even reaching levels of hatred and disgust--a misfortune of fate, maybe. There is little to no sympathy towards the mistakes scattered in the form of other humans--not much different from the majority of the population; yet dissimilar altogether. And this instance is not one he is an stranger to in his life, yet at the same time is never easy to deal with.

“The most important question now and we are done,” it freezes him, but he can only respond with a nod. He is aware that the inquiry is one that he won’t ever be able to avoid, yet Hongbin feels like he is about to be interviewed by the police regarding a crime he didn’t commit, “Are you a soulmate bearer?”

The question doesn’t sound any different from being asked if he had been in jail at any point in his life, thrown into a cell to pay for an injustice he hadn’t ever thought of getting involved into. However, questions like these keep being thrown on the daily to everyone--as if they were being asked regarding simple things like the weather or what time it was. They sound like noiseless accusations--treating everybody new as ex-convicts trying to reconstruct their life and Hongbin expected it, but it doesn’t make the discomfort diminish in the slightest.

“_ Oh… _”

“You know, it’s not like we have anything against them _ personally _, but there’s always some clients…” the man pauses, as if he were treading carefully to not offend him somehow. There is the belief that runs through society, one that has everyone certain that such kind of people are the ones who should not even exist--a judgemental and unjust outlook of something people have no control of yet fate had decided to make them be an anomaly, “If you are, you would have to provide your psychologist’s name and a certificate that ensures your mental stability is well balanced”

It is the norm for people to get treated by others like lunatics or delinquents when falling outside their so called normalcy--insane or disabled is their definition, asked to prove that they are as worthy as any other functioning human being to have job opportunities, to be able to be normal--treated like a regular individual, “I am not” Hongbin says, words coming off without emotions or uncertainty attached to them--curt, to the point, “I am not one of _ those _”

“Your hand, please” Hongbin nods. After all, it’s not even registered as an offense but an automated conduct everybody has been taught they need to go through in this society, “I have to make sure”

That prominent feeling of superiority makes Hongbin’s bitterness bubble up little by little--he would have rolled his eyes if he could have, if it didn’t come off as a rebellious display searching for confrontation. Yet, he knew better than to scoff at how ridiculous everyone was and at how--even if now almost immune to them--hurtful these little actions were despite being the designate protocol in situations like this, “Sure”

He stretches his right hand just as fast as his words come to a halt for it to be subject of overly critical examination, “All looks normal” and it does, _ for today _ it does and as long as the interviewer doesn’t pull a trick from under his sleeve, it _ will _continue to be so.

“I’m normal,” yet there is a difference between _ saying _ it and _ being _really normal--it is like black and white: too clashing to be the same entity, too contrasting for them to mold into one form that is massively acceptable. As far as Hongbin knows and has been exposed to, gray isn’t accepted, “As you can see in my hand--” he is saying, yet Hongbin flinches slightly when the back of his hand is rubbed lightly and he can only pray to the heavens for the man to not see the quiver in his lips that could give away his sudden rising anxiety, “I’m sorry, I’m just ticklish”

It’s a lie, however, like every single one of the other answers he has given to the most important questions in this interview--nothing but half-truths said in the search of something as normal as a job while being part of the definition of abnormality in the world. Just fabrications everyone is bound to say at some point--Hongbin included because that’s his conventional attitude to the habitual sword that words carry in them.

There’s a brief pause, one that looms heavily around him as the form that was laying on the table is attached to a folder alongside the notes that had only evolved in the past few minutes. And there is a formal smile as his hand is shaken,“You start on Monday”

“Thank you, sir!”

And that cheery tone and his bright dimpled smile are nothing but a lie as well, because Hongbin can’t truly let himself be fully happy about having to spit falsehoods like that was the actual definition of normal._ Yet that’s how it is _ , his mind tells him in attempts of lowering down his levels of frustration and it doesn’t make it any easier, _ but that’s how it is._

/////

It’s still early by the time he arrives at his block, yet the feeling of having been locked for hours in an unwelcoming place hasn’t truly left him ever since leaving the interview room. Restlessness would be one accurate way to refer to the feeling that keeps crawling inside his being, making him look behind his shoulder every so often as if he was about to get caught at any point while going about his way. Tension rests heavily on his shoulders, apprehension following suit as his steps take him closer to his building.

The uneasiness makes him reach for his keys in a haste, instability shown in the light tremor that he can clearly see in his hand. Hongbin hisses, reminding himself to calm down-_-it’s all over_ _and went good after all_. But the anxiety coursing through him hasn’t quite left, neither has the frustrating feeling that travels in unison. He should feel content, the expression painted on his face should be of accomplishment and happiness yet he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight with the discomfort he still feels fresh on his skin.

At times like this, he wishes interviews for these kind of jobs were as easy as it is to sign up on an app--just as impersonal as the procedure of filling a form and be done with it without the need to face anyone, yet that is wishing in futility. It is not as simple as having a vehicle and becoming part of the staff and after all because the motorbike he will be using is not his property but the company’s.

It’s not the first time he applies for a delivery job--one of the many kinds of part times he has taken-- yet he is being interviewed like he was going to be part of the secret service and Hongbin can only roll his eyes at the ridiculous nature of all this._ ‘For security measures’ _, he was told--yet nobody has ever cared about the safety of people like him.

It makes the travel up three flights of stairs and in direction to his flat all the more stressing, but at the same time--the craving for his home is evident in how fast his steps take him to his door, with a sigh falling from his lips the moment he turns the doorknob and he can finally step into actual safety.

When the door is closed behind him, the first thing that his mind urges him to do is to get rid of the lies and rush into the bathroom. The urgency to let the covers that hide who he is wash away just far more prominent when the sting in his hand starts becoming bothersome--even if it is whom fate wanted him to be born as, one of the blemishes in an otherwise _ ‘pristine’ _population.

The familiarity of his flat is calming. His living room with a large black leather sofa and two armchairs of the same material gives him the warmth that the office he was at had denied him, the prussian curtains against the alabaster walls inject a sense of calm in him. Hongbin’s flat is minimalistic in its decor yet a safe place with no judgement even when the difference is ever so present in the air even here--yet it somehow finds itself getting lost in a blurry line when his gaze immediately falls on his childhood friend and flatmate, welcoming feel of a home without interrogations being present settling itself just at the sight.

The other young man is lying on the sofa, legs casually draped over the armrest, bit of messy black hair is covering his eyes and donning a simple attire of black joggers and a white shirt Hongbin studies from his spot--just to make sure that he didn’t get one of his many white shirts stolen _ again _. He seems to be checking something on the laptop that rests on his thighs, and if Hongbin’s sight isn’t failing him--he can see the reflection of those special programmes his friend uses to make the necessary adjustments to his music pieces.

“You are back fast” he is told, low bass that Hongbin is used to hearing in the many years that they have known each other. His gaze doesn’t tear from the laptop, total focus on the task at hand and Hongbin can only nod in response so as to not be an intruder in the work his friend has all of his attention on.

Hongbin scans the living room and takes notice of a couple of things thrown around on their dark wine rug--there are papers scattered, untagged USB drives and a few empty cookie boxes. There is an audible sigh coming from his lips as he treads through what he considers the definition of mess, he stands before the busy man with a frown, “I am not going to clean this, Wonshik--today’s not my turn”

Here, a groan from the other young man as he takes to massaging his temple with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other before he stretches and yawns, “Don’t start nagging so early” Wonshik says.

Hongbin scoffs, a roll of his eyes for more impact. He should be accustomed to this kind of behaviour by now, to sleep patterns that know of no order--even though he is also guilty of this as well more times than not, “Not my fault you wake up so late”

“Not mine you are an early bird,” Wonshik counters. It’s really not Wonshik’s fault to be so into his job as a composer that his completely disorganized sleeping schedule has him waking up hours after Hongbin has woken up and gone about his day. Just like how it isn’t Hongbin’s fault to be up early even when he hasn’t slept at all and go through a whole day visually unaffected by the lack of sleep--only tension that ever gets to invade his mind being those regular instances where he has to be faced with that ugly yet normal side of the society he is part of.

Hongbin sighs, letting the exchange between them to be the usual: a playful one and without malice despite the sass that is thrown back and forth between them both, friendship of many years giving each other a free pass to joke around to their hearts’ content.

“I will be back,” Hongbin mentions, letting his backpack fall on one of the armchairs while he feels the intensity of Wonshik’s questioning gaze following him, “I feel... improper” he states, biting on his bottom lip as the weight of today comes back heavier than before when his mind makes it its mission to make him feel apprehensive.

Wonshik raises an eyebrow, his head tilting to the side as he glances at the seemingly distressed man. Hongbin can see that he is trying his best to understand how he feels but no matter how much effort is given in an attempt to try and grasp Hongbin’s feelings regarding his status--no one will ever see things the way he does and the sole proof is the comment Wonshik makes. It harbours no ill intentions, but still speaks volumes on just how blind he can be to things like this for Wonshik is from the other side--that one that Hongbin despises but the one that would be easier to be part of, “It was just foundation...”

Quite curtly, Hongbin retaliates, “You wouldn’t get it” quickly turning on his heels and leaving Wonshik slightly bewildered. Hongbin knows he shouldn’t direct his frustrations to the only person who hasn’t ever judged him--but when the reality of fate puts him in between the will to forget even if momentarily and the bothersome hammering of facts, Hongbin can’t help but react in ways he knows he doesn’t want to.

“I do” Wonshik retorts, “You know I do”

Hongbin just rolls his eyes at this statement. He knows it was a rash decision but he can’t help but sigh because Wonshik gets his situation so much that he ended up covering visible parts of his body in tattoos on a whim. Inked himself like he was a blank canvas that wouldn't be tainted no matter what, Wonshik wasn't tarnished after all--and yet, there were people who wish nothing but be a painting of pure white without a single blemish. Hongbin is fond of Wonshik though, so at times it doesn’t matter how stupid some of his actions are, or were--and he can't fully condemn him for them either.

“I’ll be right back” Hongbin states as his steps start to take him towards the hall. Wonshik’s voice suddenly notifying him of the arrival of something for him while he was gone puts a halt to his steps and Hongbin turns around slightly just to see Wonshik with a box on his hands, “Your sister sent you a new stash of cleansing products and make up” Hongbin is told, he stares at the box and just gives a slight nod in reply--’_ An expensive reminder to take care’ _, is what Hongbin minds makes note of, “Look at her being nice, they are even of a luxurious brand” Wonshik adds as he takes a look through the contents of the box.

Hongbin can see from where he is standing different bottles with skin-toned liquid--foundations of top brands, he guesses. Some white bottles and other kinds of products he can’t really know their use of all by himself accompany them so he asks, “Did she tag them?” and Wonshik gives a nod in affirmation. It’s part of his daily life to hide himself, yet he would prefer the bandages he has always worn to these high quality products his sister would make better use of--they can cover stains, conceal imperfections, yet it’s never enough to hide the side life put him at.

“Looks like she spent a lot”

“Just,” Hongbin begins, an attempt at faux annoyance trying to make itself visible in his words, “Who told you to look through my stuff if you are going to be complaining about the price?”

“Myself,” Wonshik replies, cockiness present in the current exchange, “Plus, it’s not like you would get stuff like this on your own--you don’t really like to spend so much”

“I’m careful with my money” Hongbin says with a shrug of his shoulders just before turning around and leaving his friend standing there with his box still in his hold.

Hongbin walks towards the bathroom, the stinging in his hand reminding him that he needs to put a stop to the concealed truth that his lips dared say to save himself from scrutiny worse than the one he went through. It’s as if he was being forced to rid of the mask, his steps quickening and closing the bathroom door behind him, “I _ am _aware” he mutters, traces of resentment cascading.

He looks at his reflection, his chest heaving slightly, breathing craving to lose control even if slightly, his expression paints itself vividly with frustration and he can’t help the curse that escapes his lips as a result. “Calm, calm, calm” he chants to himself with a long and audible sigh following right after. He studies his reflection, bringing his hands to his cheeks to put himself on alert, “It’s work, it’s nothing but work” he states, and he wishes so much that convincing his system was as simple as he is making it seem. He is at least grateful though, that there is not that much of a side effect for lying--because he can’t even begin to fathom just how badly other people react in worse scenarios.

Hongbin opens the faucet with a tap on the metal, defeat and acceptance lingering in the air and lets the water fall over his right hand. It stings at first, flinching in discomfort before he begins rubbing the cover away in an attempt to rid of the foundation that covers his skin. He knows it’s a bad idea to cleanse it this way when he has products that could aid him in the task but there is something about having water being his choice--perhaps an unconscious wish to be cleansed with purity rather than manufactured items.

The coverage begins disappearing after not too long, twirling down the sink and disappearing in a small whirlpool with the few minutes worth of deceptions for the day only to reveal that mark he has had to carried all his life. The one that condeems him to lead a life shunned by society, his own experience being witness to the injustice a sole marking can make.

“Nice to see you again” Hongbin whispers with an empty laugh that reeks of sarcasm, “I have been alright--you? Being somewhere again and messing up my life once more?” he scoffs, the attempts at trying to rid of the blemish just futile. Hongbin stares at it, with a mix of disgust and resentment tightly tied around his heart and a bothersome thought that makes him shake his head quickly. The ephemeral echoing of ‘Pretty’ contradicting his regular judging of it. It’s a triangle on top of his hand, perfect in every single way with the figure of an eye decorating the center of it, blue iris in invitation to get lost in it, attentive pupil watching back at him, the eyelashes are long and curvy with small circles--at times it reminds Hongbin of a harlequin’s attire, a joker, a fool. Ironically expressing emotions in silence, under a mask, pantomime of reality, “Sure, how pretty”

It won’t go away, there is _ no way _ it would, no matter how much he scrubs it, no matter how many different products he applies--nothing will erase who he is. It won’t ever leave. The mark, his tattoo will forever stay there as a reminder of his true nature: that of being less than everyone who has the freedom to choose for themselves. A mistake, they call it that. Nothing but a mistake that fate or God decided to leave disperse in the world. ‘ _ For a chance at true bliss’ _ , Hongbin and many would rather call it _ ‘for discrimination a plenty _’.

It is something that has marked him against his will, a characteristic of his that makes him think of himself as failure. Comprehending why such a sick trick would be played on him since he was born makes him abhor the thought even more. The reality of a soulmate that holds the same mark as he does is something that he would rather not give much thought to. For his own mental stability, to not be treated like the many people that lose their minds trying to find their destined match and that are in need of psychological assistance to ensure they can function like a normal human being. It’s absurd, Hongbin thinks that out of all the people in the world, he is definitely not the one that would need a soulmate yet it is infuriating how this whole topic of love has made his life so complicated to make sense of it.

Whenever his eyes land at the tattoo marking him as tied to someone’s soul forever, he can’t even begin to understand the meaning behind something of that kind. Intertwined, entangled, uncalled for union of his soul--a decision that one should make for themselves and not a predetermined jest to make him miserable. Gratitude about not having lost his mind to love always emerges. And it’s not like it matters if he never meets the person at the other side--he already has enough to cope with as it is._ ’Half? _’, Hongbin questions himself as he looks at the mirror, stopping the water from keeping of running down the sink, light tap on the faucet making its course come to a halt. He is complete as far as he knows. The prospect of falling in love has never worked, that much he has witnessed--he is not about to change that, no matter if his heart skips at the unseen display of rebelliousness.

Hongbin leaves the bathroom, stride taking him quickly along the hall and into the living room to fetch the box his sister had sent him. The sight in front of him it’s still unorganized, only that now Wonshik appears to be busy crouching and retrieving the papers that were scattered on the carpet, he keeps on looking through them until Hongbin speaks, clear curiousity making him approach his friend to offer help, “What are you doing Wonshik?” he says, kneeling down to take the sheets of paper in his hands.

Wonshik is quick to snatch them from Hongbin’s grasp before any content can be seen, he mutters, “Nothing” but it leaves Hongbin with a skeptical gaze fixed on the papers.

“Kim Wonshik?”

“It’s nothing” Wonshik replies, actions far quicker, “It’s my work”

Hongbin hums in response and raises an eyebrow, “Work, huh?” he says, he can see from his spot that the papers look like the type Wonshik uses for composing and before Wonshik can react, Hongbin snatches one of the sheets from him much to his friend’s complaints. Hongbin quickly takes some steps back and sits on the armchair and when Wonshik wants to recover his sheet, Hongbin is fast to aim a cushion at him.

“Wait,” he says as he reads through the paper, his gaze keeps going back and forth between the paper in his hand and his friend who stands in front of him, concerned look on his visage and a disbelief he can’t fully explain, “Is this a love song?” is the inquiry Hongbin makes.

Wonshik frowns, taking a step forward before he is stretching out his hand, Hongbin grins a surprised _ ‘Oh?’ _ at the gesture and he knows Wonshik can see through his intentions because the first thing he says to Hongbin is, “Drop it” knowing well that Hongbin will use this opportunity to tease him.

Hongbin lets out a laugh and gives back the sheet of paper to its rightful owner, he sees Wonshik uttering a silent ‘thank you’ as he goes back to the sofa. Hongbin can’t avoid the need to find out though, so he asks the obvious, “Are you in love?” he is teasing, the unfading grin on his face is a clear indicator that he is up to no good, “Oh look at that, again”

“What do you know about love?” Wonshik replies, there is a pout on his lips and the try to make it known to Hongbin that there is no plausible way for him to relate or comprehend the reasoning behind his actions.

“It’s the worst lie in this world” Hongbin states, head tilted to the side, what he sees as facts fall from his lips almost in an emotionless way, “Being able to choose is a lie as well--living in _ this _world is living through lies”

There is a short pause. Hongbin knows it’s not the first time that he has expressed his point of view in front of his friend, yet the topic of love to him is the greatest deception that life could have invented, “Don’t you ever wonder?” he hears Wonshik asks while he softly caresses the back of the paper he holds. Hongbin raises an eyebrow at the question, bewildered at what Wonshik wants to actually ask, “Never wonder who lies on the other side of your red string?”

A loud scoff, an empty laugh like he was being forced to have a reaction at the lamest joke just out of courtesy resonates against the walls of the living room,“That’s as cheesy as you can get”

“Come on- Don’t you wonder?” Wonshik adds while adding the sheet he retrieved from Hongbin’s grasp to the pile of papers just as he continues looking through them, slowly organizing them. Hongbin rolls his eyes, he doesn’t wonder--there is no point in doing so when the only thing he knows is how much of an annoyance it is to deal with the tattoo already, how much it irks him when his skin burns as if he was being told to not hide, to not look elsewhere, “They really could be the love of your life”

“My love cells were killed before I was even in position to love, so no” Hongbin is quickly to cut Wonshik off in the nonsense he is saying. The definition of ‘love of your life’ doesn’t sit well with him, the possibility of him actually loving the person at the other side is actually minimal after all he has had to go through because of them. There won’t be fluttering, fireworks won’t go off, mad beating of the heart and all those things romanticized visions of love mention won’t happen--not to him, “I bet they don’t care either”

“If I had a soulmate, like you do, I would be searching for them” Hongbin frowns in response to the words his friend tells him. A search like that would be in futility, realistically speaking. Hongbin is aware that the chances of finding your soulmate are next to none because if it were as easy--then people wouldn’t be losing their sanity over someone who probably doesn’t even exist, they wouldn’t be shedding tears for someone that was imposed to them and nobody would be treated like they are so fragile they need to prove they can function. Yet to hopeless romantics like Wonshik and some other exceptions, to people who belong to the normal side--finding your soulmate equals bliss, and Wonshik’s following statement proves it, “I would be elated even when finding them”

“You know how that goes, you know too well” Hongbin points out, making his stance known in the way he reminds Wonshik the difference between the love people like him know and the kind that is forced on you. He doesn’t miss the pout that appears on Wonshik’s lips and neither the way he hisses at him for his remarks, “You know what I am talking about” says Hongbin, being the reminder of Wonshik’s misfortune-- a first row seat at the display of heartbreak that attacked Wonshik years back.

Hongbin sees his best friend taking his time to answer, he looks like he is pondering about what answer would be best to give him and Hongbin lowkey wishes he would just drop the soulmate talk for now--he has heard about it plenty for years, “At least you can start over again once you screw up you know”

A sigh. All Hongbin can do is let out a sigh. Wonshik continues his quest, trying to get his stance to change slightly, for his barriers to crack even if a bit, “If I had a soulmate I wouldn’t even be worried about screwing up”

Hongbin scoffs, “You know how things are in this life,” Wonshik should know at least, he has experienced a taste of bitterness already--so in Hongbin’s eyes he shouldn’t be as laid back as he is about this, as positive, as hopeful. _ He is free to love, he shouldn’t be so fixated on the soulmate idea _, Hongbin believes--so he just tries to stop this conversation by placing his bet on his jokes and pestering, “You are a hopeless romantic sap”

“You are turning bitter than coffee” Wonshik retaliates, “Coffee is still better than you”

“I’m realistic,” Hongbin states matter of factly, sugarcoating an actually bitter reality towards the romanticized yet discriminated prospect of actual halves seems to fit the definition of incoherency. Hongbin also thinks that nothing that love can bring can be so picture perfect either and that reality could be harsher than it already is. He adds, “Besides, how am I to know if there’s someone for me? for all I know, they could even be dead”

Wonshik lets a scowl take over his features, a light shake of his head in visible disapproval, “Morbid”

“Realistic,” Hongbin counters, a snap of his fingers to end the scolding, “Good luck with your new guy”

“We still aren’t together!” and that sells Wonshik, so much that Hongbin can help but grin for a few as a _ ‘Called it _’ leaves him and makes Wonshik give up on this fight he can’t win.

“Good luck because once he finds out you got permission for the tattoos out of heartbreak then you are screwed”

“Shut up”

It’s but a warning to Wonshik to not let his guard down, to not let himself be stomped over again even if unintentionally. Hongbin knows he shouldn’t be so harsh on Wonshik, he is but one to fall so easily in love after all. Yet Hongbin feels that Wonshik should be well aware that the risk of falling in love with someone who is tied to another is an invitation for chaos to reign, for hearts to be destroyed.

_ It’s ironic _, Hongbin thinks, how people always crave for what others possess. How even if fleetingly he wishes he was just as normal as Wonshik, with the ability to choose for himself. And while Hongbin wishes hard that he had no soulmate predetermined for him almost every day, there’s always a little part of him that makes him wonder how it would be if he could choose who to fall for--but there’s no one who in their right mind would love someone marked like him, that would even turn to look in the way of someone ‘tarnished’ as they call them. Someone who is already owned against his will.

And it’s not like it hurts Hongbin, but resignation takes over rapidly--the transitory whispers at the back of his mind that try to shake his determination become muffled over trivial chit-chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that you have enjoyed if you have read all the way till here! 
> 
> As mentioned this one will be long, so I hope you guys stay with me as I update this ♡
> 
> If you get to like do leave a comment! That would make my day ^^♡ let's be together in this for a while, shall we?
> 
> ~/Find me on:  
[//❥❥twitter//](https://twitter.com/hyacinth_lea) [//❥❥CuriousCat//](https://curiouscat.me/hyacinth_lea)[//❥❥Tumblr//](https://hyacinthlea.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a/n: this is where things start getting angsty. Hope you are in for the ride, you are more than welcome aboard.]

Even if the roads and streets are calm, it’s never enough for tranquility to fall upon the concrete and asphalt that is only stomped on with uncalled for fits of rage--after all, the so-called normalcy finds it completely natural to blow everything out of proportion the moment that is least expected, with ingratitude cascading in response to actions that one should be thankful for. Or that is what Hongbin believes. Even if it’s a weekend, a serene midday that shouldn’t be interrupted by random snapping--it has already turned into one of the peculiarities that Hongbin has been witness of during his whole life. How the most minuscule thing people should be grateful can become into reasons for pointless anger that makes him want for the day to be over once and for all.

_ ‘First world problems’ _ he would call it ironically, yet he is aware that it’s far more accurate to label those as ‘ _ pointless and unnecessary problems that the normal cause _’. He finds the perfect example in the young woman standing before him, the recipient from a client who had asked him to deliver a chocolate box and a bouquet of flowers. Earlier on he wouldn’t really have paid attention to this, but the reaction from the petite girl that looks at him with such an incriminating look as if he was aiding a criminal makes Hongbin take some mental notes to never again take any request that involves couples.

She rolls her eyes, scoffing shortly after, “The question is, why did you have to bring this?”

Hongbin can’t help but ask himself the same thing, thinking that he must have been out of his mind in order to get in the middle of a supposed display of adoration by being the _ ‘cupid’ _in question. To try and make the girl understand that it’s just his job would be an entire waste of time, especially with how she is now frowning at him, “Could you please sign this?” he justs shrugs off the question. Yet it doesn’t do anything to spare him from the shouting that follows, the irrational irritation and name-calling, finger pointing at the sender of the present.

“Why does he have to be so careless with me!” and it seems like there’s no real reason for this showcase of anger and ingratitude, but when Hongbin sees the girl just taking the presents from his hand in between some sobs--he can just tell that no matter how much he thinks about it, he won’t be able to understand or relate. Because even when you display love, they make it far more complicated--as usual. Maybe even to behave with all the liberties their status gives them, in Hongbin’s book this means to complain about things you shouldn’t, “He should have come here himself if he says he loves me, not send it via delivery”

_ ‘Needless drama’ _, it resonates on the back of Hongbin’s mind--further reiterating the fact that love is something he is better off without. For a second there he wonders if life had blessed him with the ability to choose whom he wanted, would he had been able to deal with the unwarranted drama a relationship most of the time has? Question that also brings the fact to the surface, that if he was actively looking for his soulmate--then more drama would have come his way.

He finds himself biting down on his bottom lip, unsure of how to deal with the situation at hand and just waiting for the girl to find some calm after making a scene of that magnitude like he had been the one to cause her this grief. Once the concrete has endured her fit of exasperation and frustration time and time again, she manages to settle down--and albeit the awkwardness of the situation, Hongbin shows her his folder, pen holding to the border of the paper inside of it and tries to speak again, hoping his inquiry won’t be unheard this time, “Could you please sign this?”

There is a loud sigh that follows his question, a bothered expression paints itself on the girl’s face as she lets out a small, “Sure” while she grabs the pen to sign so that it’s certified that the delivery reached the recipient. Hongbin thanks her and is grateful he has already finished this request, yet just when he is turning around towards the company’s motorbike he is riding--he hears the girl raise her voice, “Please!” she says, “Please don’t take any more requests from my boyfriend anymore--if you see his number, don’t take his request on the app”

Hongbin tilts his head to the side in response, confusion evident yet she continues--voice smaller in comparison to her shouting a few minutes ago, “It’s to make him learn that if you actually love someone, you are the one that has to go to them”

It doesn’t really make the most of sense now to Hongbin, for this was nothing but a search to make things practical by someone who supposedly is in love with another person. At a loss, Hongbin can only nod his head to show he has acknowledged what she has said, “Will do” he tells her, with a bow that he expects shows her that he at least wants to do his job and wants no part in a lovers’ quarrel--after all, he was only the delivery boy in this case. He excuses himself and leaves the building entrance where they both were standing at, the workplace from the distressed girl.

He gets on his motorbike and before he puts on his helmet and leaves, he tells her something, maybe as an indirect way to at least tell the girl to recommend him on the app, “I hope you enjoy your present” after all, efficiency is something Hongbin had shown in delivering what had been given to him safely. She smiles weakly at him in response, and Hongbin decides to start his motorbike, hand securing his helmet before taking his leave.

“Wait!” he hears the girl’s voice calling out to him, turning his head to the side in questioning--hoping that a sudden wave of anger hadn’t taken over her on a whim. Yet what she says takes him by entire surprise, “Is your hand okay?” 

It had become a matter that had passed inadvertently to everyone else that was part of his day to day in some way, with people not caring to even learn the reason behind the bandages that covered his hand. He knows the girl’s gaze falls on it and he can tell the worry, yet explaining that the only reason he covers it is to conceal his identity would get him in an unpleasant situation, “It’s nothing” he replies, hoping it can be deemed an appropriate enough answer. 

“You should be careful not to drive like that or else you will harm yourself more”

“I am okay” Hongbin replies to her and in reality, he actually is. It’s nothing but the way he has chosen to conceal himself, practical in its simplicity yet without the need to resort to products that have only achieved making him feel worse than he should each time he has found himself in the position to have them do their job, rid of imperfections, “It doesn’t hurt” he lies, it’s a blatant lie. Because even though there is no cut, it is just a disguise--one he has found himself coaxed into wearing by life itself for as long as he can remember, and that should be enough to feel at least slightly hurt, “Thank you for your concern, miss” he says before he rides off.

The only thing that is not an attempt at concealing his true self is the fact that his gratitude is completely sincere. A silent thank you that he lets manifest in a sigh, Hongbin prefers to be treated as someone who had carelessly injured himself while going about his way--a result of maybe reckless actions that could be attributed to his youth rather than being looked down and having people interact with him as if he was soiled from the depths of his soul, like a canvas that had become unworthy of being looked at for a blemish made it undesirable in the human eye. He prefers this to being shunned. 

That’s just how things are, after all--no matter if he dislikes it less. White lies seem to be the solution for people who would stain the society otherwise, or who need a written recommendation to know they can function.

Hongbin can’t help the rising curiousity he feels at times, whether all people whose star was unlucky enough to give them this role in life get to feel this, if all soulmate bearers abhor it as much as he does. Yet he is aware that everyone is different and their sentiments could clash regarding love, regarding this type of invisible yet imprinted union. Some actively go in the search for love, try to reach the happy ending they feel deserving of, some decide to attempt going against what fate has written for them and take the tragic route until maybe life proves them that there is no way to go at what has is set in stone already.

And there is the other side of the coin, that of normal people who think they are eligible by destiny to break the unspoken rules of the world--yet no matter how much strength their resolve holds, the awful truth is always shoved in their faces. Having the liberty of loving someone means nothing when a person whose soul is tied can’t ever be loved the same no matter if you tried--it doesn’t matter how much you can claim you love someone, someone whose soul is bonded can’t ever be the choice of anyone for the won’t ever be the same like the one their match can bring them. And Hongbin has been witness to that, how people like him can’t go out of their match because someone else’s love wouldn’t be enough. 

At time though, there are occasions that never fail to perplex him all over gain. The complexity of the people deemed normal, the rights they unconsciously feel owners of--even in mundane instances like the one he has seen a couple of minutes ago. It’s infuriating and baffling.

At a red light, Hongbin makes sure that his bandages are tied tightly around his hand, there is no point in going through unnecessary unpleasantries if they were to fall in the moment he least expects it after all. There is no need for glances of pity of disgust, there is no point in losing his job for not being careful. And he repeats it to himself, loud enough in his mind to surpass the sound of the engine.

////

It’s the same as any other day, a constant back and forth that translates into meeting different kinds of people briefly, too ephemeral to mark a difference, way too many faces to remember at the end of the day, plenty of names to note down that in his current moment in life--will only remain but a log in his inbox. There is nothing too special that will remain in Hongbin’s mind as a vivid memory, even if the day isn’t quite over--there is nothing that could be highlighted. Except, maybe the clients that give him enough trouble to then turn into mere anecdotes he can tell Wonshik after arriving home from his night shifts--at times, the only moment in which he can find his friend home after being hours on his studio. The peculiarities of Hongbin’s clients at times make enough for a laugh, even if otherwise Wonshik considers some of these as serious matters.

However, Hongbin considers it only fair that Wonshik listens to his stories. It’s only just since Wonshik makes Hongbin, more times than not, listen to his musings about love and tales of finding the one that he is already exhausted from listening. All while hearing the name of Wonshik’s crush over and over again no matter if Hongbin just exasperatedly wants to tell the other to shut up, he understands just how amazing his crush is in his view.

However, Hongbin is aware that asking for silence from the other or for a toned down version of his excitement wouldn’t be equitable in any sort of way because, in between the intricacies of their friendship there is something Hongbin hasn’t found before in anyone else--a sense of acceptance coming from a normal person like Wonshik, an unbiased look that doesn’t hold traces of pity or any other negative sentiment. The tranquility of not hearing comments filled with hostility because of not having the liberty to choose whom to love and somehow being deemed less for it. And when Hongbin’s mind reminds him of the times that Wonshik became a safe place of sorts, he can’t help but smile fondly despite it all--at least life granted him a best friend like Wonshik.

It’s entirely strange, Hongbin believes, to see his phone blinking a few times, a notification displaying on his screen that reads he has received a message from Wonshik. It’s oddly early in the day for his best friend to do that--despite the clock indicating midday has already passed. Hongbin would have been inclined to think that it was far more likely that Wonshik would be asleep currently after working all night on his studio, dropping by back home didn’t seem to be on his to-do list the previous night after all.

He parks his vehicle at a corner in order to look at the message_ , ‘Drop by’ _ the text reads, and it makes Hongbin vaguely wonder if there’s something wrong going on, if maybe some problem had made itself present.

_ ‘Something wrong? I’m currently working’ _ Hongbin quickly text backs.

_ ‘Just drop by’ _

Hongbin sighs at the insistent nature of Wonshik’s tone and opens his app to make sure that there is no incoming request before he can ride towards Wonshik’s studio, a flat on a fifth floor in a building that is not that far from one of the city’s most known shopping malls. Wonshik’s job gives him enough money to have a studio of his own, and Hongbin at times does wonder how is it that they still are flatmates.

It doesn’t take him that long to arrive and board the elevator, feeling somehow slightly out of place in a building which lift is full of mirrors from ground to ceiling and seeing that he just looks but a regular student on a part-time--which is what he is, yet he stands out even when alone, with just a pair of black jeans and a black oversized shirt he surely doesn’t look like the kind of people who work or have a property here.

When he arrives at the fifth floor, he takes a turn to his right side, his feet taking him in the direction of Wonshik’s studio already by memory. It’s a well lit corridor, with a nice view of the city, the shopping mall can be even visualized from there and Hongbin’s mind can’t help but think that Wonshik was born with luck on his side and a strong will to be a hardworking individual. He knocks a couple of times on the door, and when Wonshik doesn’t really reply, Hongbin takes hold of the doorknob and announces himself, “I’m here!” he says as he takes a step in. 

He is welcomed, however, by a really elated sight that rushes his way the moment he closes the door behind him and Hongbin crouches to greet that little ball of happiness that Wonshik’s dog is, a french bulldog that seems really eager for Hongbin to give him some affection, “Hello, Eondongie,” he says, taking him in his arms, a light pat on his head as he scans the room, “Can’t you open the blinds? it’s so dark in here” Hongbin mentions, _ of course it would be dark _ \--Wonshik hasn’t changed the dark purple colour of his walls and all of his black leather couches, and his disco like lighting. _ Of course it’s dark _, “Where is your idiot owner, huh?”

“The ‘idiot owner’ heard you all the way here” Hongbin looks up and sees Wonshik standing by the hall, arms crossed over his chest, walking around in very casual sweatpants and a plain white shirt that makes Hongbin scan him as if asking ‘_ That’s not mine is it? _’, Wonshik is drying his damp hair and it gives Hongbin the impression that he hasn’t woken up that long ago, “What a way to say good morning”

Hongbin looks at his friend, checking to see if there is nothing that is wrong and he furrows his brow some seconds after, “You don’t look like you were pickpocketed, neither like you had been beaten up,” Hongbin mentions, trying to poke fun of him and mess around, “Some dark circles other than that you look fine”

“No shit Sherlock” Wonshik replies, a light slap on Hongbin’s shoulder to retaliate his teasing.

Hongbin lets out a small laugh, “Something wrong?”

“Not quite--N-not really” he stutters as he averts his eyes from Hongbin’s judgemental gaze.

“Wonshik-ah?” Hongbin questions, knowing that the way Wonshik is lightly biting on his lip as if too concerned to be calm is indication of something that is not really ideal, “Did something happen?”

“Someone I would say” 

Hongbin raises an eyebrow questioningly, a simple action that carries so many meanings with it painted on his visage--it results in being a combination of _ ‘Not again’ _ to an actual feeling of curiousity that bubbles up in an instant, “Oh?”

“Yes, someone” Wonshik states, taking a seat on one of his leather couches.

Hongbin rolls his eyes and instead shifts his gaze towards Eondongie, “He is such a sap, am I right?” he tells the little dog while walking towards another couch, even after he hears Wonshik’s complaint of ‘Leave my Eondongie on the ground!’, and Hongbin complies after petting him on the head. He waits for Wonshik to do the talking, but instead he rises to his feet and leans against one of the purple coloured walls of the place--there is a bit of uneasiness and it doesn't help Hongbin’s rising interest and impatience, “Well do start, if you called me from my shift to tell me that”

Wonshik scoffs, directs his words at Hongbin with mock sarcasm, “Oh--Are you now interested in my love life?”

“I could get a laugh out of it,” Wonshik just snorts at the response his friend has given him, and Hongbin knows that no offense has been found in his words and that he can be like this without being judged, “So?”

“Jung Taekwoon” Wonshik begins, and it manages to catch Hongbin’s attention almost instantly. It’s not the first time that he has heard the name, in fact, he has heard it more times than he can remember--known as Wonshik’s crush in his book, but there really had been no updates on their situation, only chit chat about how great he is. Just mere mentions in between of what could be possibly be labelled as daydreaming by Wonshik with that silly smile showing in his face as he kept on repeating _ oh just how amazing Taekwoon hyung was _.

“You called me here to talk about him?” 

“I have decided that I like him, like not just crushing--I mean actually like him” Hongbin stares at him wide-eyed, torn between disbelief and amusement. He thinks Wonshik should know better by now.

“You decide that you like a lot of people though”

“Not true”

“Very true,” Hongbin counters, and perhaps he is exaggerating a bit--yet he is aware that it’s easy for Wonshik to develop crushes on other people or what he defines as such just to then realize that what he has felt is far from actual love, “Not like I keep a list or anything but we have known each other since 5 or 6? nearly two decades” he doesn’t have any ill intentions behind his words, however. Yet the way that Wonshik frowns at him, as if telling him to avoid mentioning those instances, Hongbin can’t help but to make it known, “Don’t give me that look”

Wonshik retaliates though, not with anger but with a fact that Hongbin is aware of and while he knows it may prove a point, it still doesn’t fully erase what he has said, “You haven’t been in love” is the complaint, and Wonshik is right, he hasn’t. Hongbin really hasn’t had the chance to feel what that feels like, he is more so a realist in this world--why bring more trouble into his life?

“You are in love with love,” Hongbin replies while motioning for Eondongie to come settle on his lap, “You are in love with the idea of being in love”

And Wonshik stays silent for some seconds, the only sound tearing the slightly tense atmosphere is the sigh that falls from his lips. The fact that Wonshik has fallen really deeply before is something that can’t be denied, but Hongbin owes this whole crushing issue to Wonshik wanting to feel those emotions again, “So sap, tell me more about your composer friend” Hongbin says, after all, the little he knows about Taekwoon is that he shares the same passion for music as Wonshik, “I’ll stay here until I get a new request on the app so” a little shrug of his shoulders, taking his phone in his hand and browsing through it.

It’s not like he wishes a new request would come up, but at times he can’t just stand hearing people talking about love too much, about that feelings that he fears is something that he can’t and won’t ever be able to understand fully. The ringing of lacking the normalcy others indulge in and the reality of having been unable to find the so called other half resulting in the inability to feel that sensation, that fluttering that people talk about.

“Perfect timing because,” Wonshik says with his phone on hand, “You’ve just got a request” and Hongbin thinks his best friend is joking but soon enough notices that he really isn’t when his phone turns on, screen bright and looking at him with a notification arriving and taking him by total surprise.

“You? Wait did you deceive me to come here?”

“Not quite, deceiving you sounds too mean Hongbinnie,” Wonshik says, pacing around the room and rummaging through some stuff on one of the shelves, “I did want to talk about Taekwoon-hyung” 

“Other than what I already know?” 

“Well, Hongbin, I just think we click well enough” Wonshik explains, bringing down from his shelf a small box, “He is a really lovely person despite having been pretty on the calm side when we met”

Hongbin mock gags at the cornyness of his best friend’s words and it makes Wonshik roll his eyes as a response, yet he keeps on explaining--paying no mind to Hongbin’s pleading expression to spare him from the saccharine filled conversation he is trying to hold right now, “So I wanted to, you know, approach him more” he continues, voice holding a sense of softness to it as his mind trails off elsewhere, in a daydream Hongbin cannot visualize, “Maybe see if I have a chance” 

“And that box?” Hongbin asks, “What's the grand occasion?” he questions, putting little Eondongie on the floor before standing and up and reaching for the box--noticing the heaviness of it when it’s in his grasp and he can’t help but wonder about its contents, “What’s in here anyway?”

“Do you ask that to all the clients that ask you to deliver stuff?”

“No, just to your sappy self, I don’t want to get complaints by this guy later” 

Wonshik just laughs and shakes his head, “You won’t, trust me” Wonshik says, and Hongbin hopes he won’t--after all, he already has had enough with the client from earlier and her whining about her boyfriend. If Hongbin can avoid more scenes like those, he will gladly do so. Wonshik rubs the back of his neck in visible nervousness and responds though, to feed Hongbin’s curiousity, “You can’t open it but I’m just making sure he has enough coffee”

“Coffee?” Hongbin asks, perplexed. He had expected everything else but that.

“Yes, coffee, got the finest beans I could find for him”

“Are you rich? You never get me anything super expensive” Hongbin complains playfully

Wonshik just brushes off his jokes and Hongbin knows that there is a chance that his friend might get back at him after this eventually--yet wishes it’s not with rent of all things, “Yeah, super rich so I invest my money in coffee for my crush”

“How cute of you” Hongbin says, lips forming a line that is doing its best to prevent him from breaking into laughter at the expense of his friend. Still though, for a present it is quite something unique to gift someone coffee so Hongbin asks "Is your new guy a coffee addict or what?"

“_Or_ _what_ is right” Wonshik says and when Hongbin gives him a look as if he didn't buy his explanation, Wonshik just admits in evident defeat, “Yes, pretty much--How do you think he is awake all night working here”

“Oh so he has stayed overnight” Hongbin clings to his friend’s response, a chance to tease can’t ever be avoided, after all, “That’s why you like the place so much and aren’t home at times, huh?” and the sly smile he gives Wonshik is enough to render him into a flustered mess at the implications.

“Shut up Lee Hongbin,” Wonshik replies, abashment presenting itself in his tune, showing in different traces of faint pink on his cheeks as he carries Eondongie in his arms-directing his words to the little pet, “Don’t listen to this malicious dude here”

“He loves me, shut up” Hongbin says, receiving a small bark as confirmation. There’s a question that has been bugging him since the mention of Taekwoon and Hongbin can’t help himself even if he teases the hell out of Wonshik--he does care for him, and a lot even if he doesn’t express it as openly. Hongbin is aware that the moment he voices his concerns there may be a chance that Wonshik could be triggered by the memories he has tried to bury, but he just needs to make sure what Wonshik is getting himself into before more time passes, before heartbreak shows as a possibility, "Is he normal or…” his voice trails off, just stopping for some seconds, unable to miss the way that Wonshik evades his gaze almost instantly, “Or is he like Jaehwan-hyung?"

Wonshik furrows his eyebrows and sinks into the couch once more, teeth digging on his bottom lip, gaze lost for a minute in time before he looks up and directly into Hongbin’s eyes and Hongbin can notice that the pain hasn’t quite left, "We don't talk about Lee Jaehwan" Hongbin is able to discern the tinges of bitterness that begin lacing tightly into Wonshik’s words as they fall one by one. Yet Hongbin can’t avoid the concern, because but just as much as Wonshik protected him during their childhood--Hongbin wants to be sure that there will be a tangible certainty that his friend won’t have to face the same kind of hurt as he did during high school, even if it never was their hyung’s intention to damage him, even if Jaehwan never meant any harm.

"You lost him because of your stupid reasoning" Hongbin says, choosing to attempt to get Wonshik angry so that it can turn into a defense mechanism of sorts in order to be able to discuss this issue, so that there is no possibility of Wonshik sulking as a result of reawakened memories that should be buried. And Hongbin feels it is better that way, to feel bitterness over sadness that won’t find any sort of cure in this lifetime, "This tattoo thing isn't to be taken lightly" Hongbin adds, even though he knows that he may be pouring salt still over an open wound. At times he wishes Wonshik would understand it is not the fault of people like them to not be able to fully fall for normal people, so for the lack of total understanding, Hongbin feels that bitterness is better than hurt.

Hongbin can still see how Wonshik’s eyes fill with leftovers of the sadness that quite never left him, pain that made Hongbin’s outlook on love in general as bitter as black coffee brewed in such a way for it to be as bitter as possible--even if you are free to make a choice, you can’t ever choose a soulmate bearer. Hongbin has seen this, saw Wonshik falling for their sunbae Lee Jaehwan without the knowledge that Jaehwan carried a mark that was considered a stigma in society, fell for him hard only to have his heart broken even if Jaehwan tried his best to reciprocate in the way Wonshik deserved.

Choosing didn't mean anything when the person you love belongs to someone else, fate had decided Jaehwan should belong to another person and it had played its cards so well that the moment they met, sparks just flied and Wonshik’s heart exploded in utter grief. Hongbin saw them try-but trying is never enough, and Wonshik wanted to go against it all covering his skin in tattoos, get Jaehwan back in a fit of heartbreak, but that wasn't it. Harrowing, but Wonshik understood the hard way, "Is he normal though?" Hongbin asks, concern taking over.

"As normal as you and me" Wonshik replies absentmindedly. Eyes fixed on the ground.

"You know what I mean" Hongbin says as he holds onto the package, tilting his head to the side while awaiting for the real answer--or at least one that he will deem fit enough to be at ease. There are some minutes of tense silence before Wonshik speaks again, after all, he understands where Hongbin is coming from.

Hongbin hears him reply, voice small, gaze avoiding meeting his own, "He can choose"

There is some relief washing over Hongbin upon hearing that, and just to ease the atmosphere somehow--he decides he will just tease his friend before he begins sulking on the corners of his studio, "Cool, I'll be rooting for you," he says, briefly approaching his friend, a hand on Wonshik’s shoulder before he finds himself getting near his face to cheekily whisper, "then throw water at you if you get too mushy in my face" and with a light push at his shoulder as a playful way to bid him goodbye for now, Hongbin rushes for the door.

"You are a sap deep down there" Wonshik says before Hongbin opens the door. When he hears that, Hongbin can only frown in extreme disagreement, there is no way he is.

“If I am, it is very deep down there and not visible, like you” and before any retorts can be made, he is quickly dashing down the staircase and to his assigned motorbike. The delivery of an in-love friend has to be done after all, he has been playing cupid against his will all day--one more time won’t hurt anyone.

////

Traffic chooses to not turn into an enemy to Hongbin, perplexing him with the tranquility it showcases for a Saturday afternoon--an oddity when usually there is a sudden wave of movement with people leaving their workplaces at an earlier time than usual while others take over the streets in search for relaxation and distraction after the pent up exhaustion the week has thrown their way. Cars seem to have chosen not to block Hongbin’s path for once, making his ride in direction to the address that was given to be a smooth one--and he would be grateful and feel incredible about this if it wasn’t for the uneasy feeling that has started to show like a small bother in his chest, one he wishes he could easily rid of.

Serenity is something that Hongbin wishes he could be harbourer of in this whole ordeal, but there is something disturbing him, a bit of paranoia and anxiety that clings to him far more than he would like to admit--what if life decided to give Wonshik the losing hand in this match? What if the result of all this was more hurt coming his way?

Hongbin lets a long sigh slip his lips, with his worries getting lost in the air. He is aware that the concern shouldn’t rise in any way like this, there would not be any sort of huge repercussions Wonshik would need to face for falling in love with anyone--he has that privilege to choose whoever he fancies and no one would bat an eye at him, there wouldn’t be a judgemental gaze following his every action, there wouldn’t be any sort of finger pointing. Yet, having already seen him broken enough and the strength it took for Wonshik to recover from heartbreak makes Hongbin choose a skeptical stance about this, doubts rising, unsure if he should follow through with this. 

There is a red light that stops Hongbin, and it makes him briefly wonder if when he sees a couple crossing the street holding is nothing but a warning to him. He can see them whispering sweet nothings to each other that may be a promise of a lifetime together or that could also carry nothing but half truths in every sweet whisper that could bode the falling apart of them both, a sweet omen to disaster. The unavoidable lack of a guarantee that the privileged take no notice of, happiness not being in their grasp despite their self imposed status, irony of life that Hongbin has been a first row witness of.

Hongbin’s mind gives it far more thought though, wanting to trust for once the decisions of friend and silently hoping that there are some good qualities in the person Wonshik has chosen to set his sight on. The undeniable glimmer in his eyes is something that he hasn’t seen in Wonshik’s eyes ever since he had heard his happiness at announcing the feelings that had surfaced for Jaehwan, at expressing the gratitude he had felt towards destiny for having been able to choose someone like Lee Jaehwan in this lifetime.

Fate must have chosen Wonshik worthy of another chance if it had given his best friend the opportunity of his life--granting him a meeting that could even be destined as cheesy as it sounds to say. Someone free, someone with the liberty to choose by himself and not be object of scrutiny by society, of pity and disgust. Someone not tied by invisible threads to another whom they may not ever find, a person who is not having their life turn into the definition of chaos if they don’t find the one. A gift, a birthright.

Hints of concern and worry start cascading over Hongbin the moment Hongbin parks his motorbike and gets off his vehicle, looking at the tall silver building standing before him. It’s daunting in some way he can’t quite describe, but he does his best to shove those uncalled for meaningless feelings to the side and get all the necessary things to deliver his package. The place is farther away from Wonshik’s studio, it shows similarities in some ways, yet obviously lacks the familiarity he has grown accustomed to from Wonshik’s place--the road is busier, the look it displays gives Hongbin an unsettling feeling.

With phone in hand, Hongbin reads the information on his screen--revising his notes to be certain of the address he needs to go to, it reads fourth floor. He holds the package in his hands and decides to take the elevator rather than the stairs when he enters the building. The red numbers inside the lift ignite a feeling of foreign anxiety that Hongbin considers an abnormality, a weird sensation that travels over his system and possesses him in a way he hasn’t really felt previously albeit knowing that his only mission here is to deliver the box he has in his hands and be done with this--turning this travel into another log in his app, one he will most likely not remember afterwards. Coming back here is of no interest in Hongbin’s mind after all.

There is an unknown disturbance in the back of his mind though, disrupting his usually collected self, something in the depth of his system that prompts his breathing to turn slightly faster in nature--inhales and exhales coming in a velocity that he finds too fast for his liking. It makes him tap his foot on the ground hastily, futile try to make a call for calmness to befall him. There is some sense of impatience that feels out of place in him, an unexpected thought that crashes into his mind that tells him and insists that he should arrive faster, that this delivery should be tackled with utmost urgency and his leave should be just as rapid.

The door opens before him and once he steps out, his eyes quickly scan the place. There is a large corridor separating the different flats in the floor, all united by this hall that is open enough in the middle to be considered a small balcony of sorts. The floor is carpeted in dark wine, and the lighting feels nice enough. He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the number of the flat he has to head towards to. A quick glance, and his feet take him in direction to the number that is displayed on his screen--it should be easy, it’s about to be done and soon enough he can press his state as available and rid of this uncanny sensation.

There is a bit of hesitance before knocking on the door, yet the moment he does, it’s a soft knock--somehow as a counterattack to the weird sensation that is rising in his heart. Silliness is a word he would choose to refer to the strange pressure that he feels in his chest, entirely silly because the best way he could find to describe it would be to refer to it as roots that had suddenly decided to wrap themselves around his heart and were tugging at it--tugging at all of him to make him turn around on his feet, impose distance by taking a step away and deem rushing out of of the place as the best choice.

The minutes that pass seem to turn into a skewed perception of eternity, slowing down to the point that the prospect of time feels suffocating, “Anybody home?” Hongbin asks, and for a split second, he wishes that lady luck would be on his side and give him at least that--the security of nobody being on the other side of the door. He fumbles around, box in a tight grasp in his hands, the paper that needs to be signed laying on top of this. Anxiety should not pay visits to him in this unforeseen way, yet it has found its perfect companion in that door that doesn’t dare open and Hongbin wonders if they have joined forces to make things somehow unbearable for him.

He turns on his heels, the desire to leave and be the creator of some weak excuse to his best friend is skyrocketing by the second--Hongbin weighs his choices, knowing that it would be wrong to do it but that saying there was no one home whom could have received the package would spare him whatever sensation he is feeling at the moment. His steps decide to play saviour for the day, an unspoken command that wants to take him far away from that door. But it happens as if on cue, halting in an unuttered order as if an unknown force had taken over him--it happens in a silent unison, his body turning around almost instantly the moment the sound of the door opening filters through his ears.

And Hongbin gasps an inaudible sound that gets caught ephemerally in his throat. One that he is grateful can get lost in the middle of everything and nothing.

It’s a current of foreign emotions rushing through him the one that is prompted by the sight before him, an incapacity to describe each and every single one that he is feeling vividly coloring itself in his mind. Onyx meets dark topaz in complete silent astonishment, and Hongbin blinks taken aback--without words willing to come to the surface and make themselves present in any way. It’s lightly curled black hair and a lovely shade of bronze that shines breathtakingly in the air of the early afternoon the one that makes Hongbin’s ability to speak useless, and light reflects perfectly and lovely at a man of about the same height of Hongbin, in a soft beige sweater and light denim jeans who is staring at him as if he was the mirror reflecting his bewilderment. Plush lips agape, pure eyes blinking at him, and Hongbin swears that his eyes had never seen someone so beautiful before.

The sensation feels strange and oddly overwhelming, heart hammering way too hard against his chest that it has Hongbin worrying about it being heard--and there is the lingering certainty he may be looking dumb in front of this stranger but it’s an impossible feat to ask of Hongbin to utter anything that could be defined as a sound, vocal chords having made the decision to make him incapable of forming any coherent word. Hongbin gulps, shivers hurrying through his being and a light tremor has suddenly decided to take over the stability of his hands, shaking slightly and he curses himself on his mind--hoping for the misplaced nervousness to not be visible.

The stranger tilts his head to the side before taking a small step forward, and Hongbin knows it’s wrong but he can’t help himself when in unison, he instead takes a step back--as if just with a glance he was being cornered against a wall which doesn’t exist in this place, as if the walls he had constructed around him were being destroyed one after another in an unannounced demolition.

Breathing turns into a difficult action to achieve properly, and there is a clashing collision of wishes that make him want to escape and don’t dare move a single inch from the place at the same time. And perplexity must be written all over his face for curious eyes meet his as if in search for an answer to his behaviour, for an explanation to the evident astonishment present in the moment. Yet silence doesn’t deem it fitting to find itself broken, no matter how much Hongbin wishes for it to be so--so he decides to avert his gaze, too overwhelmed by the presence of the man right before him. There is an attempt to calm himself down that Hongbin tries to rationalize, perhaps this person is someone he has seen around, perhaps that is the reason behind his shock.

He sees a light shake of the head, and another forward before a soft cadence reaches his ears, honeyed voice unlike anything else Hongbin has heard before--a sound that his system defines as nothing but a sweet symphony. And he gets asked, with eyes widening with visible interest, “Yes…? Hello?”

“I--” Hongbin straightens himself, holding tight onto the box for much needed support, “I have come to deliver a package” his voice trails off, gaze finding itself avoiding the man’s.

“Oh..” the man softly says, “Yes, please,” and his eyes fix on Hongbin’s hands, “that’s the one?”

“Y-yes” Hongbin stammers with the affirmation, with the reminder of what he is actually here for, “package for..” when he remembers the name, Hongbin feels as if a weird feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach, strange and completely odd when he asks, “Jung Taekwoon-ssi…?” and his mind makes a point to remind him that this could be the guy he has come to deliver the package to--the one who his best friend has a crush on and it makes him feel all kinds of bad for reacting that way in front of possibly, Wonshik’s crush. The idea that his behaviour screams of uneasiness and that he may be seen as weird for even feeling flustered at the sight of this man, for even feeling like all his defenses were taken down in a moment makes Hongbin want to scold himself.

“Taekwoon?” the man before him asks and he turns his head to look back inside the flat. Hongbin had always heard of the expression of wanting for Earth to swallow individuals, and he has never felt it as true as he currently is, with abashment through the roof. Yet it takes him by surprise when the man in front of him calls out, “Taekwoonie! package for you”

From the depths of the flat, Hongbin is able to discern the sound of falling water coming to an end as a voice, very soft one at it, replies to the mention of the name--the owner of said name, “Please pick it up for me! I’ll be out in a few Hakyeon”

_ ‘Hakyeon’ _the name resonates on Hongbin’s head many times, it’s somehow fitting-the name and the face seem to go in perfect synchronicity. Yet the way the man smiles in direction to the hall gives Hongbin a feeling that doesn’t bring him any sort of joy, not in the slightest, “Is it okay if I sign?”

“A-ah yeah” Hongbin says under his breath and the moment that he tries to reach for the papers on top of the box so that the man can sign on behalf of whoever it is inside the flat, he loses hold of the package he is carrying, it falls to the ground and panic surges through him.There is a startled yell of worry that leaves his throat and before he notices, he is apologizing over and over again, “I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry” he repeats as he crouches to pick it up and see if it isn’t broken, if the jars of coffee beans that are inside the box are still okay even if he can’t open the package, not right in front of the person who has to sign. Hongbin hopes there are no complaints but his hands weren’t able to stay still and he is making a fool of himself--yet there is a sudden thud on the ground, soft yet loud enough for surprise to settle in his being.

When Hongbin’s eyes look up, they find themselves looking right into bright onyx irises that stare into his directly from a really close distance, there is a hit against his chest, a skip in his heartbeats that Hongbin swears he hasn’t ever felt before--and for a second, words become a foreign concept to him, “Are you alright?” the man asks with concern written all over.

“I--I’m fine” is what he says out loud, but he knows that the nervousness invading every fiber of him makes him be far from fine for it’s a sensation he hasn’t ever felt in all his lifetime. That powerlessness to even make himself capable of breathing properly, of forming thoughts that have even a sliver of coherency when one of the traits he knows himself to have is the wit and trademark sarcasm that form the ace under his sleeve--that inability to shut up and keep even the harshest yet honest of thoughts to himself. It’s baffling to him, yet this is the first time that Lee Hongbin doesn’t know what to say. And it is an overpowering feeling to say the least, one never before experienced, that makes his brain shut, “I’m sorry I will pick this up and--”

His words rush to make themselves audible, in a race to express his rising concern, yet the moment his hand reaches for the box, it graces against that of the man in front of him--an unexpected touch of his bandaged hand under a leather gloved one, “I will pick it up, that’s alright” Hongbin is told, and he prays that it’s not visible yet there is no possibility for him to avoid the way he flinches a bit, wincing at the contact. Curses towards the mark imprinted in his hand cloud his mind, aware of the painful reminder of his display of stupidity, “Sorry about that” he hears the man that he heard is called Hakyeon say, withdrawing his hand, now aware of the touch, “Did I hurt you?”

“I’ll pick it up, it’s fine”

“You don’t seem okay at all, please don’t worry about it” the softness in the voice plays its part as a tranquilizer of sorts, he knows that his apprehension and nervousness are detectable and there is a small attempt at achieving calm when he mutters a small ‘Okay’. Little by little, Hongbin wonders if this is how snow must feel when the sun touches it for the first time after a long endless and ruthless winter--craving it, but too afraid to meet its demise for spring to make its way.

There is a light nod from Hongbin in response, hands coming to grab the papers, “I’m sorry” an apology that he utters without a full knowledge or discerning as to why--whether it is for the clumsiness of dropping the package and endangering its contents, if for the embarrassing behaviour he has made a stranger witness of or if it is to express how bad he is feeling for having touched this unknown person’s hand and letting it remain unmoving for some seconds. He doesn’t know the precise reason of his apology, or if it’s about everything and more.

“It’s alright,” Hongbin hears the man say, forcing his eyes to not remove their focus from the papers upon hearing the voice--yet it’s a nameless pull the one that draws him and prompts him to look up, a magnetic command that makes him experience that lack of air starting once more, an idiotic inability to follow his own trail of thought, a foreign desire to get lost in those eyes and not keep chanting to himself that he should look away if he wants for calm to befall him. Hongbin is no fortune teller to see the future, but he wasn’t able to foresee the soft smile that is directed at him, it’s dazzling and unlike anything else he has seen before. The reality of being here for a delivery soon gets lost in the turbulence of thoughts, and soon drown--albeit not fully upon hearing the man speak, “Where do I sign?”

“Right,” Hongbin says, his gaze trails back to the papers, focus solely on them for some seconds- slowly standing up and straightening himself as the man in front of him follows suit, package now in his grasp and held tight to his chest as if it were the definition of treasure. A treasure for that man called Jung Taekwoon. Hongbin makes a small sign with his pen on the paper and then says, “Please here” indicating the other where he should sign so this can come to an end. There is a taste of bitterness promptly invading him and threatening to become into a worse version of that feeling, he abhors the sensation--but tries to convince himself that it’s something his mind should pay no attention to.

The papers are soon in the grasp of the man referred to as _ ‘Hakyeon’ _, and he takes the pen from Hongbin’s hold, signing his name on them. Hongbin glances at the paper, reading fully the name of this person--Cha Hakyeon. There is an endless repetition of his name in Hongbin’s mind, one he doesn’t know how to make it come to an abrupt halt because it is becoming too asphyxiating to handle. This is not the person he came looking for, but in reality, Hongbin can just tell from the tone in which he speaks that it’s someone close to the person who is to receive this present, “Thank you, I’ll give this to Taekwoon”

When Hongbin hears the name of Wonshik’s subject of infatuation, he can’t help but point out who is the person that is sending Taekwoon this present, “Ah, right, the person who sent this is Kim Wonshik--if you could tell him that” there is no real reason as to why he feels inclined to make it known, but there is something in his being that tells him he just had to disclose that information. Right after Hongbin adds that, the figure of a tall, slim man with feline eyes and porcelain like skin shows up, soft pink and damp hair and looking otherworldly in otherwise common clothes like a plain sleeveless white shirt and gray sweatpants. He approaches the door, and Hongbin doesn’t miss the way that long slender fingers find themselves falling on Hakyeon’s shoulder--a casual display of familiarity at the touch.

The moment the pink haired man speaks, his voice holds a certain softness that is far more present than when Hongbin hear him shouting from the shower, “Kim Wonshik you said?”

“Taekwoonie?”

Hongbin can only resort to nodding in response, hyper aware of the lack of tension in the air but of the questioning gaze that Hakyeon gives Taekwoon. There is a peculiar sensation that seizes Hongbin’s mind and it results in a feeling that him and Wonshik have somehow intruded in a place where none of them have been invited--intruders of sorts. It feels bizarre to even refer to it as such, but his brain has made it its mission to tell him that’s the truth, “Yeah, Kim Wonshik”

The smile that starts painting itself on Taekwoon’s face is all kinds of lovely, and for a brief moment--Hongbin can sort of understand the reason why Wonshik happens to be so into him. He is a handsome man, after all, with an air of an ethereal definition that he happens to share with Hakyeon in a similar but different way. There is an unearthly vibe that Hakyeon carries about himself which makes Hongbin lacking when it comes to finding the correct words that could be the translation of his volatile thoughts. Yet Hongbin clears his throat, attempting for said action to also clear his mind from wandering around those musings.

“Thank you and sorry for all the inconveniences,” Hongbin bows slightly, awkwardly. He bites on his bottom lip and receives the already signed paper from Hakyeon’s hands, alongside his pen, “You can file a complaint if you feel the need to and I’m sorry again--”

“That’s okay, don’t worry at all” he hears Hakyeon say, “It happens” and there is that tranquil aura about him that successfully manages for Hongbin to feel a miniscule sense of ease that somehow becomes the source of calm that diminishes Hongbin’s erratic breathing from just some minutes ago.

“Sure” Hongbin says, uncertainty present about what else could be fit enough for him to say.

There are some tense seconds that follow, he sees Hakyeon and Taekwoon exchanging some glances with each others with unspoken questions that look for immediate answers in the way they are looking at each other--he doesn’t know if it’s plain curiousity or a reaction to an uncalled for intrusion. But Hongbin doesn’t want to be witness of that, and there is a sensation of gratitude that washes over him the moment they both disappear into the flat after thanking him for his work, closing the door behind them--leaving Hongbin with nothing but emptiness carving itself on Hongbin’s chest. 

The silence that he has been left in is broken by a long audible sigh that escapes Hongbin’s lips, and he makes the choice to stay immobile for some minutes in front of the door--feet unwilling to give him the ability to move away from that place, as if his system was waiting for that man, Cha Hakyeon, to appear at any minute from now. As if he was being told to stay for he may lose the chance to see him again. The necessity to knock on the door again is increasingly becoming uncontrollable, but that logical side of him comes to make him company, convincing him like the voice of reason it is to not resort to that. His teeth dig hard on the flesh of his bottom lip, attempting to make himself find coherency in his thoughts and snap out of the idiotic sensations he is feeling--yet no matter what he does, his heart has chosen to not put a stop to the mad hammering that resonates against him, all throughout his being.

“Cha Hakyeon?” he whispers an inquiry soft enough that it passes unnoticed and nearly inaudible, ‘_ Cha Hakyeon _’ his lips pronounce like an statement, mouthing then the name as if he was trying to engrave it in his mind. Yet the moment it becomes loud enough for him to hear, that very same name becomes like the equivalent of a bullet having been shot straight to his heart--one way too hurtful for Hongbin to really understand why. 

He turns on his heels and hastily makes his way in direction towards the elevator, pressing insistently on the button for it to come soon--but it’s like a silent mockery when it takes more time than expected for its arrival. The numbers begin to play a silly joke on him, blinking way too slowly and prompting a sense of urgency in him to rush down the stairs without caring for the unstable state he finds himself in, “Quick, quick, quick” he utters, desperation and impatience rising. And when the door finally opens offering a safe space for him and inviting him to take a step in, which he does, he waits for it to close--yet the sound of the doors closing feels way too deafening when it does, and Hongbin can’t recall it making that loud a noise previously. So he blames it on the anxiety coursing through him, it being the only reason why all sounds feel heightened. 

It takes some seconds for him to realize he is fully alone there, and he makes himself somehow press on the first floor button. Mind slowly becoming less erratic, heart attempting to be more at ease--the sole feeling that he is experiencing being that of a weird sensation that is hugging his heart tightly. Hongbin doesn’t want to put a name to it, doesn’t even dare try to pinpoint all this he is feeling--yet it finds itself being almost automatic when he weakly says to himself, “Cha Hakyeon, huh?” 

Soon realizing it is but a mistake to say that name, because in the emptiness of that metal cage silent accusations begin being thrown his way--forsaken mark in his hand stinging like it hadn’t ever before, making him flinch in pain and shut his eyes tightly. He hasn’t even put a name to all he felt, but it seems that only the name of the man was enough, “I fucking know!” he exclaims, with frustration manifesting crystal clear in a stained glass like him, “I fucking know it--I can’t, stop, please,” Hongbin is aware of what he is asking, he is also aware that he hasn’t officially recognized the feeling. But he grabs his bandaged hand and sighs loudly, misery having decided to make the pain a clear reminder of whom he is--he doesn’t really recognize himself when the words fall as a plea, “I can’t, I know--don’t need to make this so painful” yet he knows it’s uttering words in futility. Emptiness worsening, pain increasing without halt and suffocating.

The desperation makes him lose it while inside the lift, this is not the Lee Hongbin he knows himself to be but it’s like a switch had been turned on inside his brain--with resentment showcasing itself far more clearly than ever before, “Will you just scram!” it’s a yell that he aims at his soulmate, a petition to just allow him to live for a second, to not choose to hurt him for the nameless feelings he has felt for this stranger--whom more likely than not, he won’t be seeing in his life again.

The uncertainty of not knowing if whatever he is feeling can be sensed on the other end is plaguing him, yet he wishes, really wishes now that whoever it is that is supposed to be his half to not make him feel like he had committed a crime. Like there was no other way to refer to him other than a darned a traitor even when he had no intention of making any kind of problematic feelings to ever make themselves present in his life. With his soulmate or with anybody for the matter.

To be able to discern whether he is feeling nauseous or if it’s dizziness the one that has hit him is something Hongbin finds himself currently unable to do, rushing out of the strangling sensation the elevator had given him and into the traces of freedom the open space outside the building seems to give him. He quickly scans the place for his vehicle yet he can distinguish the feeling of unreliability he gets when his eyes so much as fix themselves on it, first time of being unsure whether he can ride his motorbike.

He walks in direction to it though, resting against it, breathing ragged--unjustly so Hongbin believes, “Just--damn you, whoever you are” it is not written in books and neither told as common knowledge how it would feel when your soulmate was suffering, and it is really not spoken of how it would feel when you managed to find them. The only information Hongbin vaguely remembers is the one he has from his best friend--that of hearing from him that Jaehwan would get those rushes of pain through him no matter how much love Wonshik tried to give him, undescriptable feeling that was foreign to Wonshik and would render the man he loved into a crying mess. An endless sobbing with no known way to end that Wonshik said not even kisses would calm the man he had chosen to fall in love with.

It is the definition of uncharted territory for Hongbin, but in the transitory calm that he experiences--Hongbin gathers that whatever emotion and pain he felt in that fourth floor and in his travel down to ground level is only fault of his soulmate. The realization at his own stupidity colliding with his usual exclamations of logic because he allowed for himself to be overwhelmed at the sight of someone whom he only shared a momentary meeting with--and it’s disastrous result was his soulmate giving him hell for it. _ So that’s how accusations feel _, Hongbin’s mind vaguely tells him.

His attention is grabbed by the vibrating of his phone, an incoming request by someone who is close enough and has seen his status as available. It makes him frown and on a whim, the immediate reaction he has is to change his status to unavailable--not really having the will power in him to ride anywhere else but in direction to the safety of home.

It’s slow, the way that Hongbin lifts his gaze from his phone and in direction towards the fourth floor of this building it’s nothing but slow. It makes his sight linger there for a while, an unforeseen feeling of longing invading him. His mind chooses to pronounce that name once more, as if it was that magic trick that would leave him mesmerized and make that man show up by the window and somehow, let his gaze fall upon him--yet bitterness makes it a point to make Hongbin remember and be under the total belief that someone like that man wouldn’t ever look at someone like him. And his soulmate mark has made sure to hammer that fact home almost immediately the moment that it detected that rush of a foreign emotion.

And the torture does not find it sufficient enough that he has gone through this, so the logical side of his mind decides to join all the puzzle pieces and paste them with rationality to make Hongbin more miserable--because that smile, the fondness it harboured could only mean one thing. Something he wishes would never fall from his lips but the facts that he sees as truth are the ones that want to become heard--tangible in the form of an actual sound that would make the statement far more official.

His lips begin forming the name, syllable after syllable in a soft tone he hadn’t ever heard coming from his own voice--as if it was the word that he momentarily wishes fate would have chosen him to say. Yet the pain that shoots through his being makes him repeat the name, with an addition attached to it, lips uttering the words that his mind wishes hard weren’t true in his eyes--but logic and his own reaction say it’s so, “Cha Hakyeon...taken”

There is a weak laugh tearing through his throat, a defeated one that finds its end as rapidly as it started--fleeting as the erratic beating that had taken over him, as the uncontrollable hammering that his heart chose to do as a reaction whatever it was that Hongbin felt. It was but ephemeral, a once in a lifetime breathtaking and harrowing sensation that if he ever meets his soulmate, Hongbin will forever be resentful that they nearly instantly reminded him almost automatically that he has no right to choose. That only society chooses to treat people like him in that way but that the person he is tied to also wants to let him know that the liberty to choose the unblemished side is something he has no right to--even if it was a case of love at first sight.

_ Love at first sight _, Hongbin can only scoff at the prospect--its existence holds no weight in the reality that life is, romanticized scribbles that people have made books about. It doesn’t exist. At least, not to him--not in his world, not for whom he is in this world.

He gets on his motorbike, engine starting and roaring loudly that it becomes the most effective solution to his need to muffle the drumming of his heart. And it only makes his mind erratically repeat,_ ‘Just stop, just stop--stop _ ’ little by little turning into an endless chant that at times makes his lips mouth in silence, _ ‘Please stop’ _

It’s transitory, but Hongbin thinks that perhaps Wonshik’s words could hold some kind of truth to them--that perhaps deep inside Hongbin was capable of feeling emotions of a kind he had been unaware of, to the point that maybe they felt far more heightened than they were supposed to. Yet, fate chooses to put unexpected instances in life--that of being at the right place, at the wrong time with no choice left but to find an escape route.

And that’s the only choice Hongbin finds reasonable, fleeing away from the unbearable confusion, attempting to escape far away from the loud mad beating--away from Cha Hakyeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! sorry it has taken so long to update this chapter. It ended up reaching nearly 11.2k after I edited so it has taken a lot of work to get it done, but I finally did and I hope that it lives up to the first--and most importantly, that it can be an enjoyable read for you all. And yes --the actual angsty aspect and the slow burn aspect will kick off starting from now.
> 
> Do let me know if you liked this chapter or if you are just tuning in, do tell me if you get to like this story ~
> 
> Once again, thank you if you have read all the way until here--feel free to share your thoughts if you wish to <3 that would make me happy.
> 
> Hopefully we see each other soon~ I'm going to be working hard on this and other works. Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> ~/Find me in any of these places <3 would love to talk!  
[//❥❥twitter//](https://twitter.com/hyacinth_lea) [//❥❥CuriousCat//](https://curiouscat.me/hyacinth_lea)[//❥❥Tumblr//](https://hyacinthlea.tumblr.com/)


End file.
